


Ain't Hardly

by placentalmammal



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Ghouls, Oral Sex, Sapphic September, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7982683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After seventy-three years together, Bobbi and Daisy know how to push one another's buttons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't Hardly

Bobbi came home late, ash and damp soil caked under her fingernails. Daisy was already in bed, already half-asleep when the other woman let herself in, key scraping in the lock. She rolled onto her side to watch Bobbi staggering around the small apartment, kicking her boots off and then undressing. She let her clothing—vest, shirt, trousers, belt—fall to the floor in a heap, but she removed her wig with the utmost care and set it on its stand to be brushed out in the morning.

Snorting, Daisy moved over to make room for the other woman. “You’re so vain,” she said grumpily. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you care more about that ratty old wig than you do about me.”

Bobbi laughed, a harsh, low _ha ___, then dropped down beside her. She slung an arm over around Daisy’s waist and pressed a prickly kiss to the base of her throat. “You know that ain’t true,” she said, curling her body around Daisy’s. “I could never choose a favorite.”

Daisy harrumphed and elbowed her in the gut. Bobbi’s laughter was transmuted to a grunt of pain. “Serves you right,” she said, rolling onto her side. “Coming home after midnight and putting your cold hands and dirty feet in my bed.” 

"Don’t be like that,” said Bobbi as she wriggled closer to Daisy. Propping herself up on her elbows, she leaned in close for a kiss. Her lips tasted like tobacco and oak; cigars and whiskey. “And don’t act like you ain’t the one coming in late half the time.” 

“I can’t help when the caravans come in,” said Daisy. “ _You_ can help when you meet with your boys.” 

“I run a gang, not a fucking tea shop,” Bobbi growled. “And I don’t know if you noticed, but the political situation in Goodneighbor ain’t real friendly to the Triggermen these days.” 

Daisy groaned. “Spare me,” she said. The mattress creaked as she rolled onto her back. “It’s late. Your persecution complex’ll keep ‘til tomorrow.” 

"You asked,” Bobbi huffed. 

“Did not.” 

"Did so,” said Bobbi. She mimicked Daisy’s closed-off posture and flopped onto her back, rheumy eyes boring holes in the cracked ceiling. “You’re always prying into my affairs—” 

“You can sleep on the couch if you’re going to be like that,” said Daisy grouchily. “Dammit, Bobbi, I was _asleep_ when you came in.” 

"So sleep,” Bobbi snapped, drawing the blankets up to her chin. “I ain’t stopping you." 

Daisy rolled half onto her side and caught Bobbi’s chin in one gnarled hand. She jerked Bobbi’s head sideways, forcing the other woman to look directly at her. “ _Stop talking_ ,” she growled. “I’m tired.” 

Bobbi extracted herself from Daisy’s grasp. “Christ. _You’re_ in a mood.” 

“Good _night_.” Daisy withdrew her hand and turned over, presenting her back to the other woman. 

Bobbi scoffed, muttering indistinctly under her breath, but didn’t respond. Huffing with irritation, she punched her pillow and rolled onto her side, back turned toward Daisy. They lay like that for a moment, still and silent and listening to one another’s breathing, before Daisy relented. 

Sighing, she rolled over and moved closer to the other woman, sliding into place behind her and wrapping her arms around her thick waist. Seventy-three years they’d known one another. This was just another petty argument in a long, long line of petty arguments, and it’d keep until the morning. She kissed Bobbi’s cratered cheek and settled down beside her, burrowing into the warm nook of her shoulder. 

Bobbi tipped her head and pressed a kiss to Daisy’s forehead. Not an apology, just armistice. 

(Chief among Bobbi’s flaws: she never apologized. “I say what I mean and I do what I want to,” she’d said crankily. “The hell do you want me to apologize for? Being myself?”) 

_I’d certainly appreciate it_ , Daisy thought sleepily. _You don’t make yourself easy to love_. Yawning, she forced the thought from her mind, focusing instead on the rough texture of Bobbi’s skin and the rise and fall of her sunken chest. She closed her eyes and listened to the other woman breathe. Gradually, she fell asleep, and the next morning, their argument seemed utterly insignificant. 

She woke in stages, stretching and yawning and instinctively burrowing closer to the warm body beside her. She pressed her face into the crook of Bobbi’s neck and inhaled her scent: sweat and cheap cigars, drugstore perfume and white Brahmin-fat soap. It was a warm, familiar fragrance, one that Daisy could lose herself in. 

Bobbi shivered and groaned, pushing Daisy away and] burying her head underneath a pillow. “Go ‘way,” she said, voice muffled. “‘S too early for that.” 

Daisy glanced at the clock hanging over the stove. “It’s past eleven.” 

" _Early._ " 

“Now, don’t you wish you were coming home earlier?” she teased, running one finger down Bobbi’s spine. “Wouldn’t feel so early if you’d been home at a reasonable hour.” 

Bobbi shivered. “Go away,” she repeated, twitching the blanket up to cover her bare back. “I wanna sleep.” 

“Go ahead,” said Daisy, her voice light and mocking. “I ain’t stopping you.” 

Another groan, and Bobbi mumbled something like ‘you’re the worst,’ before she burrowed so deeply into the blankets that she disappeared entirely. Laughing to herself, Daisy clambered out of bed, stumbling over Bobbi’s discarded clothing. She kicked the other woman’s things into an untidy pile, then bustled over to the stove to begin making herself breakfast. She had eggs in the ice box, bought in from one of the Minutemen farms up north. They were small things with thick, mottled shells and pale yolks, very different from the grade-A extra-large eggs of her pre-war girlhood. 

The smell of frying eggs drew Bobbi out of hiding. She drew back the blankets and cautiously extracted herself from bed, hastily dressing before she took her usual seat at the kitchen table. She settled down into Daisy’s favorite antique chair and set about cleaning under her fingernails with a pocketknife. 

“So I’ve been thinking,” she said casually, “about Goodneighbor.” 

Daisy sighed, shoulders going slack. “What are you up to, Bobbi?” she said warily. Seventy-three years they had known one another, and Bobbi had spent most of that time scheming. 

"Nothing you wouldn’t approve of,” said Bobbi, and Daisy could practically _hear_ her rolling her eyes. “Well, nothing illegal or immoral, at the very least.” 

“Bullshit,” said Daisy tiredly, turning to frown at Bobbi over her shoulder. “Do you really expect me to believe that? I wasn’t born yesterday, sweetheart.” 

“Not really,” Bobbi admitted, and then she flashed a grin. And even after all those long years together, her crooked smile still set Daisy’s heart a-flutter. “But I expect you not to pry.” 

Heart in her throat, Daisy returned her attention to the stove. “I got better things to do than mind your business, Bobbi,” she said thickly. 

The other woman laughed. Her voice was wrecked, same as any ghoul’s, and her laugh was harsh and hoarse as a mouthful of gravel. Daisy couldn’t help but like it; it suited Bobbi nicely. 

“Liar,” Bobbi teased. “You get off on meddling, you old bat.” She leaned back in Daisy’s chair, casual and confident even as the ancient wood creaked and groaned underneath her. “I’ve known you too long, Daisy.” 

Swallowing, Daisy took a moment to compose herself. “If you break that chair, I’ll tan your hide,” she said idly, turning the eggs in the pan. “I mean it. It’s an antique." 

“So’re you,” said Bobbi, without much heat. Bobbi was old, older than any human, but she wasn’t pre-war like Daisy. By her own reckoning, she’s one-hundred-forty years old, born in 2144 or thereabouts. She was from California—the Boneyard—or thereabouts, and her definition of democracy began and ended with one word: ‘Tandy.’ 

Daisy laughed, mock-affronted. “The mouth on you!” she scolded. “I’ve half a mind to take you over my knee and teach you some manners, girlie.” 

The chair creaked again as Bobbi hauled herself up out of it. Daisy shivered in anticipation as the other woman came up behind her, pressing flush against her and squeezing her tits through her nightgown. “Is that a threat or a promise?” she rumbled, her voice scraping across Daisy’s cheek like a dull knife. 

Unable to help herself, Daisy rocked back into the other woman, grinding against her. “After breakfast,” she said unsteadily, letting her head fall back onto Bobbi’s shoulder. “The eggs’ll burn if I leave ‘em too long.” 

"Damn your eggs,” said Bobbi fiercely, lips brushing Daisy’s neck. She slid the strap of Daisy’s nightgown down to expose one scarred breast. Mealy mouth hot and wet pressed against Daisy’s throat, Bobbi rolled her nipple between two calloused fingertips. 

Shivering, Daisy toyed with the notion of pushing the other woman to the floor and riding her mouth, then and there. She closed her eyes and savored the feel of Bobbi’s lips, then decided to stand firm. “After breakfast,” she rasped, shrugging Bobbi’s hands away. “Eggs are too expensive to waste on your libido.”

The other woman stood back, grumbling. “You’re no fun,” she said. “Wouldn’t have taken long, anyway.” 

Daisy laughed. “Just for that, I think I will hit ya,” she said. “That’ll teach you to mouth off." 

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep,” said Bobbi. She lingered behind Daisy for a moment, cloudy blue eyes locked on Daisy’s hands. After a moment, she darted in, stole a kiss, and helped herself to a handful of Daisy’s ass. 

Daisy squawked indignantly and whirled around, brandishing her spatula, but Bobbi had already moved out of reach. She winked and swaggered back to her seat with exaggerated bravado. “Hurry it up, woman,” she said, tipping the chair back onto two legs. “I’m _starving._ ” 

Grinding her teeth in irritation, Daisy resolved to take as long as possible finishing breakfast. She turned the eggs out onto chipped melamine plates, then meandered over to the ice box. Two days earlier, she’d had a shipment of plump tarberries in from the Slog. She’d closed up her shop and spent a lazy afternoon listening to the radio and pressing the plump, tart berries into juice. A moment of consideration, and she reached instead for the oranges sitting beside the mostly-full pitcher. 

Behind her, Bobbi groaned with impatience. Daisy hadn’t bothered straightening her nightgown when Bobbi finished with her, and her tit was still hanging out. Bobbi’s hazy eyes were drawn to it like a dowsing rod, and she leaned forward in her seat, panting and plainly aroused. 

“You’re a goddamn tease, Daisy,” she complained. “I’m dying—” 

“You shouldn’t have been so mean to me,” said Daisy primly, like she hadn’t got one boob hanging out of her nightgown. “You can wait a few more minutes, can’t you?” 

Bobbi snarled in frustration, but sat back in her seat, hands flat on the tabletop. Her blue eyes tracked Daisy’s movements and she breathed hard, halfway feral with lust. 

“Good girl,” said Daisy, and she let herself be smug about it, because Bobbi _hated_ it when she was smug. Smirking to herself, Daisy set the oranges on the counter and picked up a knife, giving it a tricky little flip for Bobbi’s benefit. 

Hard to believe it’s been seventy-three years, she thought. _Feels like a week._

The other woman grunted. “Look at you,” she spat. “All honey-tongue, ‘butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth.’” She shook her head, her voice taking on a familiar heat. Daisy knew without looking that that Bobbi was perched on the edge of her seat, thighs clamped together, wispy hair falling down around her face. “But you’re a mean old cuss, aren’t you?” she spat, “underneath that tidy suit, you’re just a lowdown bitch, same as me.” 

Daisy cut one of the fist-sized oranges in half. Twenty years earlier, she’d bought citrus seeds off some trader up from the Everglades Wasteland, then turned around and sold them to Doctor Penske in Vault 81. She’d made her money back then and there, but the real profits had come after the trees bore fruit. Daisy reintroduced lemons and oranges to the Commonwealth, and she’d made a mint off it. 

She smiled to think of it, and weighed the bisected fruit in her palm, mentally calculating its value. Easily forty caps. Really, she was just showing off, reminding Bobbi of her wealth and influence. 

“You wouldn’t’ve stayed with me if I weren’t,” she said, mild as May. 

Another frustrated noise from Bobbi, an irritated huff of breath slipping out from between clenched teeth. “God _dammit_ , Daisy,” she said. “You ought to be _running_ this town, not playing shopkeeper while some puffed-up little cocksucker struts around like he owns the damn place.” 

“Drop it,” said Daisy, an edge in her voice. She squeezed the orange into a juice glass and dropped the rind into the compost bin. She picked up her knife and set to work on the other orange, sawing through the fruit’s thick skin. “I’m done with politicking. And besides, I happen to like the new boy.” 

“Hancock ain’t worth the shit you scrape off your boots,” said Bobbi fervently. “You jus’ like him ‘cause he’s scared shitless of you.” 

“Smart boy,” said Daisy, desiccated lips curling up in a grin. “I like a little abject terror. ‘S an attractive feature in a man.” 

Bobbi was silent for a moment, then started in again. “If it weren’t for that bodyguard ‘a his—” 

Eyes flashing, Daisy turned on her heel. “I said _drop it_ ,” she hissed, knife clenching in her sticky fist. “I won’t have that kind of talk in my house, Bobbi. Even from you.” 

Jaw set in a furious line, Bobbi met Daisy’s eyes. They glared at one another for a moment, chests and egos inflated, silently daring the other to back down. 

Bobbi looked away first, blue eyes sliding down to the floor. “You’ve gone soft,” she said sullenly. “You were the meanest raider in the whole damn ‘Wealth. What happened to you, Daisy?” 

“I smartened up,” she said, turning her back on Bobbi. “That’s no life for an old ghoul.” 

The other woman snorted and said nothing. 

Daisy sighed and returned to her task, face set in a grimace. She’d been a raider. So what? She wasn’t now, and ‘now’ was all that mattered. That was how life went: just a series of ‘nows’ strung together like rosary beads, each one counted and considered before moving onto the next. And someday, she might circle back to ‘raider,’ but for the moment, she was a shopkeeper. 

She set the plates and glasses on the table. The eggs had gone cold, but Daisy figured they’d still taste alright. _And anyway,_ she supposed, _we’re tough old gals. I’m sure we’ve eaten worse_. 

They ate in wordless silence punctuated by the scrape and rattle of cutlery. Street noise drifted in from outside: distant gunfire, barking dogs, vendors hawking their wares, a Diamond City swell screeching when they reached for their wallet and came up empty. Daisy met Bobbi’s eyes and they grinned, sharing a quiet laugh at the expense of the unknown stranger. 

Should’ve kept a closer eye on things,” Daisy ventured, setting her fork down beside her plate. 

“You only make _that_ mistake once,” Bobbi agreed, chuckling. “Goddamn, what do you think it’d take to make them realize they’re not wanted?”

By ‘them,’ she meant not only the tourist, but Diamond City, the whole ‘Wealth, the whole damned _world_. As far as Bobbi was concerned, her adopted hometown existed smack-dab at the very center of the universe. Everything outside the rusty gates was so much stardust; inconsequential. 

Daisy shrugged. “A damn sight more than I’m going to give them,” she said unconcernedly. She’d worked through all her resentment years earlier. “As long as all the tourists keep spending their caps in my store, I don’t much care _where_ they come from.” 

Bobbi sighed. “One of these days,” she warned, “something’s going to happen to _make_ you care about what happens in this town. Mark my words.” 

“Maybe,” said Daisy, “but until then, I’m content to live and let live.” She stood, gathered up the dirty dishes, and dumped them into the sink to be dealt with later. “I’m not going to go around and look for fights.” 

“I don’t go looking for fights,” Bobbi growled. “Fights keep finding me.” 

“Can’t imagine why, with your sunny attitude,” Daisy murmured. She circled ‘round the table and reached for Bobbi’s hands. She kissed each of her scarred knuckles and set Bobbi’s hands on her tits, holding them there. “Come on, sourpuss,” she said. “Come to bed. I think I ought to make good on a few promises, don’t you?” 

Bobbi’s mouth quirked up in a convulsive grin. She let her hands fall to Daisy’s hips and tugged her closer, positioning the other woman between her legs. Inching forward in her seat, she craned her neck and reached up to put her mouth on Daisy’s soft tits. Daisy bit her lip and rolled her shoulders, pushing her other strap down to expose both breasts. The nightgown—two sizes too big—slipped down over her hips, puddling on the floor and leaving Daisy naked and shivering. 

“That’s my girl,” said Bobbi, leaning back in her seat to appreciate the view. “God _damn_ you’re fine,” she croaked and patted her thighs. “Take a seat, baby, I’ll show you a _real_ nice time.” Eyes burning bright, she reached for Daisy again, obviously intending to pull her down into her lap. 

Daisy swatted her hands away, laughing. “Not on my nice chairs,” she said sternly. “They can’t hardly support one of us, let alone both.” 

Bobbi opened her mouth to protest, but Bobbi silenced her with a kiss, then caught her wrists and jerked her up, out of the chair. They stumbled backward together, toppling onto the bed with a grunt and a muffled thump. Daisy landed on her belly and Bobbi fell on top of her. She scrambled to keep the upper hand, seizing Daisy’s forearm and twisting it behind her back, trying to keep her pinned down. 

Breathless with laughter, Daisy twisted and thrashed in Bobbi’s hold. She broke free and hooked her leg around Bobbi’s calf, easily flipping the other woman onto her back. Grinning in triumph, she straddled Bobbi’s hips, using her weight to pin the other woman in place. “Your move, creep,” she said fondly, stroking Bobbi’s cheek. 

Bobbi bared her teeth in a snarl, spitting curses. “—slippery as a goddamn eel!” she snapped, trying and failing to throw the other woman off. “Fuck!” 

Daisy drew her hand back, still laughing. “Still want me to spank you?” she asked, undoing Bobbi’s blouse one-handed. “You’ve been a _very_ bad girl.” 

“Sweetheart, you don’t know the half of it,” growled Bobbi, grinning like a feral. “You got no idea, all these things I’ve done.” 

Daisy rolled her eyes and parted the other woman’s shirt, then tugging her pants down, stripping her of pretense and clothing. Naked as a molerat pup, Bobbi shivered and cursed, eyes glazed, breathing like a wounded animal. Her sunken chest rose and fell rapidly, and her pert tits heaved. Grinning, Daisy helped herself to a handful, pinching and squeezing and earning herself a choked groan. 

“You want this or not?” said Daisy, fingers digging into the other woman’s breasts. “You want me to flip you over and lay into your backside?” 

“Fucking try,” she snapped, eyes glinting. “Just fucking try me!” 

“Say please.” 

Bobbi closed her eyes and _howled_ , a wordless cry of anger and frustration. “Goddammit!” she growled, voice thin and ragged as a scrap of old linen. “Daisy, _please_!” 

“Good girl,” Daisy cooed, and she tipped backward all at once. Before Bobbi could lash out, she flipped the woman onto her belly and dragged her across her lap, arranging her with her ass in the air. 

She brought her hand down on Bobbi’s ass, just hard enough to sting. Bobbi keened, hips twitching forward with the impact. She was still struggling, still fighting like a cat in a sack. The power struggle was part of their game, and it didn’t matter that Daisy won every time. The inevitability of it was part of the game, too. Made it sweeter for both of them. 

Daisy smacked her again, a sharp _crack_ in the dusty room. If Bobbi were still human, her ass would be pink and shining, red welts layered and crisscrossed over dusky skin. Ghouls didn’t show marks so easy; it was a damned shame in Daisy’s estimation. She was willing to bet that Bobbi would’ve looked _real_ pretty with bruises on her thighs and a necklace of love bites. 

Bobbi whimpered, quieting underneath Daisy’s hands. She slipped deeper into her own head with each successive blow, docile and tame, her arousal trickling down her legs. Daisy swallowed and shifted her focus to the untouched flesh beneath the curve of Bobbi’s flat ass, the junction of thigh and buttock. She gave her one good strike—hard enough, she thought, to set Bobbi’s ears to ringing. Bobbi moaned, breath catching low in her throat and Daisy paused, hand falling to her side. 

“Still with me?” she asked, patting Bobbi’s abused ass. 

The other woman groaned, arching her hips upward. “I think I’m done,” she said groggily. “That’s enough of that.” She rolled off Daisy’s lap, falling backward onto the mattress. 

Daisy reached down and brushed Bobbi’s wispy hair back off her sweat-slick forehead. “How’re you feeling?” she asked gently, stroking the other woman’s cheek. “There’s some tarberry juice in the ice box, if you’re thirsty.” 

Smiling, Bobbi caught Daisy’s hand and brought it to her lips. “I’m fine,” she said, and she kissed Daisy’s palm. It wasn’t more than a flutter of dry lips over three lifetimes’ worth of scars and lines, but Daisy shivered and stooped to kiss the other woman properly. Their mouths met, and Daisy’s lips fell open to welcome the press of Bobbi’s tongue. The kiss was languid and unhurried, cresting and receding like a wave breaking against the shore. They kissed, fell back, and kissed again, until they were both breathless from it; eyes glazed, cheeks burning. 

“Let me get you off,” Daisy murmured, lips brushing over the other woman’s fluttering pulse. “Let me make you feel good—” 

Bobbi laughed and settled back into the mattress. “If you insist,” she said, letting her legs fall open. “I never could say no to you, doll.” 

Daisy kissed her again. “Liar.” 

“Well, if you’re going to be like that, then you can just—” 

Her words ended in a gasp as Daisy reached down, expert fingers delving into Bobbi’s hairless folds. The other woman’s cunt was bald as her scalp, almost entirely bare except for a few tenacious hairs sprouting from withered flesh. 

(Daisy was inordinately fond of those sparse hairs; she’d named each and every one.) 

Bobbi moaned and jumped when Daisy found her clit. Her arms tightened around Daisy’s neck, pulling her closer as she chased her peak, hips bucking up against the other woman’s hand. “Christ,” she said, in a voice raw and coarse as The Aristocrats, “Christ Daisy, right there, right fucking _there_ —” 

Daisy’s wrist had begun to cramp. Biting her lower lip, she shifted her angle and pressed against the other woman more urgently. Chest to chest and cheek to cheek, Daisy drew rough circles around Bobbi’s clit, indirectly stimulating the sensitive bud with her thumb. The other woman cried out again, shuddering and jerking underneath Daisy’s hands, body drawn taut as a bowstring. A moment of stillness and heart-stopping tension, and then she lost control, flailing and lashing out. Crying out, her gnarled hands twisted in the bedspread, rucking up the blankets and knocking Daisy’s throw pillows to the floor. 

Her wet cunt shivered and contracted against Daisy’s fingers, coating her hand and wrist with the other woman’s slick. It was a swift, brutal orgasm; nothing soft or tender about it except their regard for one another. 

The sweet, musky scent of Bobbi’s arousal filled the small room, masking the early-morning smells of body odor, cooking oil, and stale tobacco. _There’s no finer perfume in all the world,_ Daisy thought as she inclined her head to kiss the other woman. 

Bobbi kissed her with a grateful kind of satiation, pulling Daisy down beside her. “Baby, you got _real_ nice hands,” she murmured, fumbling to catch Daisy’s hand in her own. She brought her fingers to her mouth and kissed each individual knuckle, tongue darting out to taste her own juices. 

Daisy laughed. “Well, you got a real nice pussy,” she said. “‘S my favorite thing about you.” 

“And here I thought you were with me ‘cause you loved me.” Bobbi snorted, a bitten-off almost-laugh caught low in her throat. “Fool me twice, huh?” 

“Shame on you,” Daisy finished, and they exchanged another close-mouthed kiss. Daisy began to pull away, but Bobbi caught her and hauled her down again. 

Never content with what she had, Bobbi slipped her tongue into Daisy’s mouth and hooked one leg around Daisy’s waist to keep her still. “I’m not done with you yet,” she rumbled, fingertips pressing firm against Daisy’s bony shoulders. “I still haven’t got _you_ off, sweetheart.” 

"Really, baby?” said Daisy, batting her stubby eyelashes. “You’d do that for me?” 

Bobbi chuckled. “Any day, _doll_ ,” she said, a fond, teasing edge in her voice. “Anything for my kitten.” She traced Daisy’s back with slick hands, fingertips brushing over each of her vertebrae before reaching down to cup her flat ass. 

“Too far,” murmured Daisy, allowing herself to be groped and flipped onto her back. She stretched, back cracking audibly, luxuriating in the feel of the smooth fabric against her rough skin. Utterly content, she settled back into the ancient, squeaking mattress and parted her legs for the other woman. “I’m not your kitten.” 

“How ‘bout just being my girl, then?” said Bobbi. She kissed Daisy’s belly, drawing a line south from her navel with her mouth. “Is that good enough for you?” 

“Yeah,” said Daisy unsteadily. The mattress creaked as Bobbi settled down between her spread legs. Her calloused hands were rough on Daisy’s thighs; her breath was hot and sweet against her slick mound. Eyes screwed shut, she began to tremble with anticipation, her whole body shaking with eagerness— 

She cried out when Bobbi buried her face in her slick, pulsing heat. Moaning, Daisy hooked her legs over the other woman’s shoulders and ground up against her mouth. Bobbi’d been eating pussy for longer than most people had been alive, and she was an old pro. She parted Daisy’s outer lips with two fingers, kept her tongue wet, kept a steady pressure with tongue and fingers. She worked methodically, her tongue flicking over Daisy’s clit and then up and down her seam. Broad, slow licks, top-to-bottom and side-to-side. 

“God, _Bobbi_ ,” said Daisy, voice breaking. “Bobbi, oh my god, oh my _god_ —” 

It didn’t take her long to reach orgasm. She’d been wet and aching for it since the other woman had come in the night before. Her long-delayed satisfaction burst like a dam, rippling across her body and pouring down her thighs. She came with her arousal smeared across her legs and dripping down Bobbi’s chin, soaking into the blankets. 

The other woman leaned back, smug and self-satisfied, and licked her shining lips. “Fuck, I love how you taste,” she said, kneading Daisy’s thighs. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, I swear to god.” 

Flushed and dizzy, Daisy pulled Bobbi up for another lingering kiss. The heat of her woman’s body and the mingled taste and scent of their sex was almost overwhelming; pleasantly so. Daisy shivered and moaned, arching up against Bobbi, legs still wrapped around the other woman’s waist. 

“You’re so good,” she said sleepily, running her fingers across the other woman’s scalp. “My girl, my Bobbi. So good.” 

Bobbi snorted, half-amused, _almost_ disdainful. “Hardly,” she said, and then she kissed her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Shout-out to Choco for the beta read, and to Del for catching my mistakes after I posted <3


End file.
